Once I saw that clearly, a lot of things suddenly made sense. The overtrading. The forcing of setups. The inability to walk away after a loss. The rush to take small profits while letting losses run, praying for a rebound. The constant raising of the bar made me focus more on lack than on gratitude. I was no longer acting from rationality, but from a series of “I feel” decisions, which is obviously not a system or a form of smart, calculated risk management. And the market does not reward desperation. It amplifies it.
I have no idea why I have this feeling that writing this post might be a form of acceptance and relief for myself. Maybe it is because people say that step 1 of fixing a situation is accepting that there is a problem, and step 2 is identifying what that problem actually is.
Sometimes I wonder why I have this crazy tendency to put myself out here instead of writing in my journal and keeping everything private.
I have tried that. It did not work. So here I am. Maybe it is because I started this blog by pouring my heart out without filtering myself, and over time, writing here began to feel like a form of therapy that old school pen and paper sometimes cannot give me.
I do not know.
I am rambling at this point because I am about to be really vulnerable by spilling the tea, my tea. My dirty, disgusting cup of tea, all over the place. This is going to be full of shame, guilt, and regret, and hopefully by the time I reach the final paragraph of this post, I will feel lighter and more liberated.
I think this is also the first time I am openly talking about this topic: trading.
I started trading in 2018 or 2019, during a time when I felt really lost in life. I did not know what I wanted to do when I first moved back from Australia, but the idea of making money just by clicking buttons amazed me.
It was an awful roller coaster ride. I am not blaming anyone or anything except myself. Despite all the learning, grinding, and pain, I now look back and realise that a lot of it happened because I never truly built a solid foundation in trading.
It is like spraying tons of perfume instead of taking a proper shower and scrubbing yourself from head to toe. That is me. Sometimes my P&L (profit and loss statement) smells like an expensive Tom Ford fragrance, and sometimes it smells, and even looks, like shit.
To my dismay, for the longest time, I genuinely had no idea what was wrong.
I took courses, read psychology books, journaled my trades, watched countless YouTube videos, spent weekends making notes, you name it. Yet I still could not understand why I was not seeing consistent results.
I had wins, both big and small. But at the same time, I also had losses in XS, S, M, L, XL, and XXL sizes.
I felt like a hamster running on a wheel, getting thrown off by inertia, then getting up and jumping right back on. That cycle went on for years, until two weeks ago.
I nearly blew my prop firm account in phase one.
Before taking my first prop firm challenge, I gave myself a solid six months to prepare, especially since I had pivoted from equities to gold and forex trading. (It is like a safari versus a zoo. Still animals, but completely different species.) I read a lot of books, did plenty of demo trading, and to make things more realistic, I even opened a small hundred-dollar live account to get the real feel of trading.
I was not thriving, but I was surviving. And somehow, I convinced myself that surviving was good enough. Pfftt. Talk about accepting mediocrity with low standards.
My trading buddy then said to me, “Why not just sign up for a prop firm challenge? Take the smallest one possible to reduce the stress. You will never feel ready anyway.”
So I took the challenge at the start of November, thinking I could easily survive. I mean, who would blow this account, considering I had managed to survive on one hundred dollars for months?
Boy, was I wrong.
This whole prop firm experience felt like a 照妖镜 (zhàoyáo jìng), which literally means a demon-revealing mirror.
I thought that after everything I had been through over the past few years, I had become more composed and emotionally steady. But just two weeks into the prop firm challenge, my inner demons were exposed in ways I had never experienced before.
I overtraded. I overleveraged. I chased trades out of spite and desperation. I layered entries by coming up with excuses for why I should not exit, even when the setup clearly showed early signs of weakness. I did things I had never done before, not even during my worst phase of trading equities.
And while I was in that state, I did not even realise how out of character I was acting, let alone stop myself.
I was down (all the effing way) to the last $99.90 before my account would have been completely stopped out when I finally snapped back into awareness. I got so scared that I basically became WOKE on a whole different level. It was a wake-up call that felt more like a massive slap in the face.
At that point, I was not afraid of the P&L anymore. Deep down, I knew I would only lose the registration fee. It was not the money that scared me. It was me.
I was seeing a side of myself that I did not even know existed. I was behaving like a gambler or an addict who had completely lost control.
That was when I truly took a step back.
For the first time in years, I realised that it was never the strategy, the indicator, the time frames, or whether I was trading equities, forex, or gold. It was me. I was the culprit. Why did it take me so long to see that I was the common denominator in every single scenario?
So I started digging deep.
Thankfully, I had a trip to China coming up right when all of this happened. Being without my laptop turned out to be exactly what I needed to clear my head. I usually travel with a Kindle no matter where I go, but not this time. I needed real quiet, real space, and real time alone to figure out what this demon inside me was actually about.
Now that I am back after two weeks of nonstop inner self-review, here are my findings.
In line with what I wrote in my previous post, I realised that I was gripping my P&L far too tightly by tying it to my self-worth. I did not see that this attachment was coming from desperation and a lack of inner stability. I believed that if I traded long hours, it meant I was hustling and therefore deserved to be paid by the markets. In reality, I should have been waiting patiently for clean, high-quality setups instead of chasing profits. If I wanted an hourly wage, I might as well not learn how to trade in the first place.
As mentioned earlier, I never truly got clear on my foundational knowledge because of something called complexity bias. I kept overcomplicating things by constantly consuming more information. What I should have done instead was return to the basics. Trading is ultimately just numbers. I am naturally sensitive to numbers in everyday life, and I am actually a smart and conscious shopper in most areas, so why was I not applying that same mindset here? It is not that different from shopping for a good deal.
Tying these two together, I realised that the demon was never just fear or greed on its own. It was the constant need to prove something. The worst part was that I did not even know what I was trying to prove. Was it to prove that if I make this much money from trading, then I am set for life? Or was it to prove that I was right about the direction, even if the timing of the entry and the risk I took were wrong?
That is a dangerous place to trade from. Only now do I truly understand why spiritual teachers place so much emphasis on the intention behind a thought or an action. Intentions create a domino effect. They can either work in your favour or quietly sabotage you, keeping you stuck in circles if you do not know where to untie the fucking knot.
I was not trading the market. I was trading my demons, my emotions, my ego, and my distorted intentions.
Then came the moment of disgust. I had this weird feeling stuck in my throat, like I was about to throw up (literally), and it lingered for days. But I swallowed it, along with my ego.
A tiny voice in my head said, “Let us try something different.”
Instead of obsessing over some number in my head that I thought would mean I was set for life, why not try living as if I were already abundant, and stop thinking, worrying, and living in fear and desperation?
Throughout my trip, I kept asking myself, “How would you think, act, and feel if you were already abundant right here, right now?” I also started asking, “Who am I when things do not go my way?” And more importantly, I asked, “Can I be the type of person who stays grounded, patient, and rational without needing to prove anything?”
This prop firm challenge was not just a trading milestone for me at this stage of my life. It did more than test my trading skills. It reflected everything back to me, as a person, with no filter. No excuses. No hiding. From now on, it is about looking inward.
I do not have all the answers yet. I am still learning. Still unlearning. Still sitting with the discomfort of seeing myself more clearly than I ever have before.
But this time feels different.
This time, I am not trying to fix myself by adding more. I am stripping things back.
I am learning to separate my self-worth from my P and L. To see trading as a long-term practice instead of a daily judgment. To treat it like a game, not a personal battle.
Maybe that is what this whole journey was trying to teach me all along.
So no, this is not a success story. Not yet. This is not a redemption arc or a motivational post. It is simply an honest snapshot of where I am right now. A moment of clarity that came from almost blowing an account and finally being forced to look in the mirror.
The demon-revealing mirror did its job.
I do not know exactly where this leads next. But at least now, for the first time, I know what I am working with at its core. And somehow, this feels like a real starting point, even if it is from the ashes.
Saturday, December 13, 2025
Funny thing is, it took me this effing long to realise that “fuck it” should have been my life motto all along.
For the longest time, I believed, actually worshipped, the idea that working hard was the only way to get anywhere in life.
Do not get me wrong, I am not saying you should go hide in a cave and do absolutely nothing. But somewhere along the way, I realised that the direction of one’s consciousness matters so much more than grinding for the sake of grinding. Society keeps telling us to put our heads down and hustle, but what we really need is to look up and actually see where the hell we are going. There is a reason people say not to walk while scrolling your phone; you might crash into something if you are not paying attention.
Anyway. Back to the story.
For the longest time, I believed, actually worshipped, the idea that working hard was the only way to get anywhere in life.
Do not get me wrong, I am not saying you should go hide in a cave and do absolutely nothing. But somewhere along the way, I realised that the direction of one’s consciousness matters so much more than grinding for the sake of grinding. Society keeps telling us to put our heads down and hustle, but what we really need is to look up and actually see where the hell we are going. There is a reason people say not to walk while scrolling your phone; you might crash into something if you are not paying attention.
Anyway. Back to the story.
I did this solo performance last month, as requested by my vocal teacher. And honestly, I never thought I could pull it off. Even if I could imagine myself doing it, I was convinced I would do a disgustingly horrible job. There was a split second when I thought maybe I should not and could not do it, and that I would be better off hiding in the toilet. But then I thought, “Fuck it. Let us get this done and over with. Whatever happens, happens.”
When I got off the stage, and my vocal teacher looked at me and said, “You have fuck it written all over your face.” Hah. Wild how she could see that so clearly when nobody else could. And surprisingly, I did not screw up horribly. Whee~
Or when I was job hunting as a fresh graduate. I was sending out resumes like a maniac, got humiliated in an interview for not being “pretty enough,” and kept pushing through the self-doubt and anxiety until I reached that mental breaking point of “fuck it.” And suddenly, there it was, an offer from a prestigious bank with kind bosses and colleagues.
Maybe “fuck it” is not just a motto.
When I got off the stage, and my vocal teacher looked at me and said, “You have fuck it written all over your face.” Hah. Wild how she could see that so clearly when nobody else could. And surprisingly, I did not screw up horribly. Whee~
Later, when I told my LDR bestie what my teacher said, she connected the dots instantly. She told me I always operate at my highest level when I reach that “fuck it all” phase. She has seen me through every version of myself, the growth, the breakdowns, the breakthroughs. Sometimes I feel like she knows me better than I know myself. I am blessed to have a friend like that, I know.
We are both into spiritual teachings, and she reminded me that my “fuck it” moments were actually moments of surrender, to the universe, to God, to whatever name you choose.
Like when I was trying to lose weight. I was going to the gym two hours a day, journaling every bite of food, obsessing over every detail, and still plateauing for years. Until one day, I just went, “fuck it,” let go, and refused to buy a new weighing scale when mine broke, and that was when the weight finally came off.
Or when I was job hunting as a fresh graduate. I was sending out resumes like a maniac, got humiliated in an interview for not being “pretty enough,” and kept pushing through the self-doubt and anxiety until I reached that mental breaking point of “fuck it.” And suddenly, there it was, an offer from a prestigious bank with kind bosses and colleagues.
And then my bestie said something that honestly shook me:
“Have you ever thought about making this your default setting? Instead of forcing yourself to trust the process or repeating that it takes time and patience, like some kind of psychotic brainwashing. Those are just labels.”
And she is right.
Maybe it is just a label.
Maybe changing that label could save me from all the extra mental burden I keep dumping on myself.
I looked back on things I have been procrastinating on, things I have been desperate to do well but could not seem to get results in, and things I have been waiting to start until the perfect moment when I felt ready. And I realised that if I had adopted that “fuck it” mindset earlier, the same way I did right before going on stage, since there was no turning back anyway, I probably would have gotten further in life than where I am right now.
Then again, fuck it.
This is not a post meant to reinforce self-condemnation or guilt-tripping. I have done enough of that, and it obviously got me nowhere.
Now I have officially declared fuck it to:
• my bank statements, Excel sheets, and budgeting apps, because they do not define my self-worth
• my feelings that come and go, because I acknowledge them, but they do not define me or dictate my decisions
• my unhealthy obsession with getting things “right” and “learning enough” before I even take the first baby step
I am sure the list could go on, but I still need some time to get the rest out of my system, or should I say, let the residue float to the surface so I can clear it out.
Maybe “fuck it” is not just a motto.
Maybe it is a whole new operating system.
Thursday, December 11, 2025
I kinda contemplated for a bit whether writing this post was the right thing to do. But somehow, my gut told me this is a story worth sharing. So here’s where I’m going to air my dirty laundry for a bit.
This story is about a project I did with my grandpa.
“Oh, that sounds cute,” you might think. But honestly, the beginning wasn’t cute at all.
Growing up, my relationship with my grandpa wasn’t the best. Scratch that. I was being modest. I kinda hated him for his overpowering, patriarchal attitude. He was constantly yelling at everyone, especially treating my grandma as if she were his slave, and would lose his temper over the smallest things.
(I’ll skip the other family members’ stories since that might be a bit too much, but you get the gist — things were bad as a whole, a cycle.)
I was afraid of him. In fact, I think the younger me not only truly hated him, but was also deeply traumatized and embarrassed by the fact that I was related to him by blood. I hated him so much that I would always pray for my grandma and everyone else to just leave him because he was so toxic.
But it wasn’t until 2023 that I had this long heart-to-heart talk with my bestie, and I literally poured out all the sewage water I had bottled up inside me. It was the first time in a really, really long time that I blurted everything out without filtering myself. I felt lighter afterward, but I also knew that eventually, I had two options:
(1) Continue hating him
(2) Do something about it—to remove (or at least reduce) the weight of that baggage that had been dragging me down for so long.
I chose the latter because number one? Been there, done that. And it didn’t bring me anywhere. Also, hating someone is like having sewage water as oral wash, you are neither spitting it out nor swallowing it, and you are the only one dealing with this shit. wtf. So why not try number two and see what happens?
But honestly, I had no idea what to do about it.
I just sat with this vague idea of doing something for a really long time… until I went to China last year.
I visited a free museum in Zhejiang and saw a bunch of wood carvings. Then the idea just came to me, as if some invisible hand flicked a switch in my head. I took out my phone and sent photos of those artifacts to my grandpa. Then I sent an audio message asking, “When I come back, can you make one for me?”
(Oh, I forgot to mention that my grandpa does wood carving professionally. He’s been doing it his whole life. It still baffles me how someone with such a low boiling point and so little patience could pursue a career like that and actually be so good at it. But that’s a story for another day.)
It was so out of character for me to even ask him that. But I didn’t give myself time to doubt or overthink it. I just knew it had to come from me, and I had to act.
Throughout my trip, I was constantly on the lookout for inspiration for the wood carving we were going to do (or rather, waiting for inspiration to drop). At this point, he still hadn’t given me a solid yes, but I just knew that somehow, I would get him to agree. I couldn’t think of any other way to mend our relationship, since we never really had a solid foundation to begin with.
And then the idea hit me in a total no-brainer, gut-feeling kind of way: Make a malus ‧˚❀༉‧˚
The whole reason for my trip to China was to watch the malus flowers bloom. I’d read about how beautiful they were in a novel and needed to see them with my own eyes. I did fall in love with them, so I knew the theme for the wood carving had to be malus. Coincidentally, my grandpa specializes in carving dragons, phoenixes, and florals.
When I got back from China, I deliberately made plans to go out for lunch with him so we could talk about the project. Not gonna lie, it felt odd hanging out with him without anyone else around except my grandma. There were moments of silence, and times when he’d say something that triggered my self-defense mechanisms like when he raised his voice or insisted on things going his way. Not necessarily about the project, just in general, during meals or when I was at his house.
I endured it and kept consciously reminding myself on repeat: It’s okay. I don’t need to see him through that old lens anymore. This is a conscious choice.
So, after I “bribed” him with a few lunches, we got to work.
My pov
But to my dismay, he told me he wouldn’t design it for me because he had no idea what I wanted. All he could do was carve it based on a sketch I provided.
I spent several months trying to figure out what I wanted the malus carving to look like and how I was even going to come up with a sketch. I’ve never been good at drawing.
Thankfully, after searching high and low, I found a malus drawing I really liked on Red Note (China’s version of Pinterest).
This is the original image that I found on Red Note.
But I didn’t want to copy it directly. So I combined it with a frame I loved from a Suzhou museum I visited during a Hanfu photoshoot with a friend.
I created this concept with Canva.
Then came the task of combining both drawings. Eventually, I surrendered to the most “prehistoric” method: drawing it by hand, using tracing paper, and pretending like I had my shit together.
I trashed two pieces of tracing paper on my first tries because I kept messing it up out of impatience and frustration. Then I turned on a C-drama to keep me company, and 4–5 episodes later... it was done. To my biggest surprise, I actually did it!
I passed everything to my grandpa, and over the next 10 months or so, I made a deliberate effort to follow up with him. I visited his place for no reason, arranged additional lunches, brought over snacks, and stayed in touch. He would send me videos of his progress and call to ask when I would come to his house to check on the woodwork, as if he couldn’t wait to show me every little detail.
Fast forward to June 2025, it was done!
It's perfect!!
I picked it up and custom-ordered a matching wooden frame to keep it protected.
Not gonna lie, when I saw the finished product, I was really happy. Needless to say, I love the woodwork—my own malus that doesn’t wither, made from my clumsy and amateur sketch. But the deeper feelings didn’t come from the woodwork itself. They came from the fact that I had taken that uncomfortable, unfamiliar step to mend things with my grandpa (without ever telling him directly). The woodwork was just the means. What I really found was the end I’d been searching for.
It had once felt so distant and unrealistic. But now, I can proudly say that even though I still struggle to find topics that spark conversation with him, I no longer carry the resentment I had as a child. That pain and trauma dissolved somewhere between all those shared meals and snack deliveries. I changed how I saw him, and somehow, things changed too. Now, I can be with him without the hatred, fear, anxiety, or that constant urge to protect or defend myself from the next outburst that used to take over.
That shift didn’t happen overnight. It came in quiet, ordinary ways, in the trying, in the awkward silences that got just a little less awkward. I wouldn’t say we’re suddenly close or that he’s turned into some sweet grandpa from a feel-good drama. But I can say we’re in a better place. A place that feels more real. Less scripted. Less tied to old wounds.
Though I am proud of myself for making this effort, I’m also deeply grateful to him for saying yes to this project and doing it for me. This is the first real gift he’s ever given me, and I’m going to cherish it forever.
Sometimes, healing doesn’t look like big declarations or emotional apologies. Sometimes, it looks like showing up. Sitting down for a meal. Sending a random photo (about the progress of the woodwork). Dropping off snacks without saying much. Putting the past behind us.
So yeah... this is the story behind the wood carving. A personal project wrapped in quiet, heavy history. A small wooden object that somehow carried a lot more than just craftsmanship. And maybe, just maybe, it carved out something softer between us, too.
Friday, July 25, 2025
I was so fed up with feeling unfulfilled and lost, like I was wandering aimlessly through nearly every aspect of my life. I kept chasing the idea of becoming my "ideal self," constantly learning and pushing, but it felt like chasing my own tail, spiralling deeper and deeper into a rabbit hole. (P.S.: You can read more about this here)
Eventually, I hit a point where I started asking myself: “Why haven’t I figured this out yet?” I had devoured countless books, listened to endless podcasts, and sought advice from people who seemed to have it all together. And yet, I still had no idea where I was headed.
It felt like driving down a road, constantly glancing in the rearview mirror, wondering if I should’ve taken that other turn back there.
It wasn’t until I revisited the basics of the Law of Attraction and manifesting that I found clarity. That’s when I realized everything boils down to two simple truths:
- You become what you think.
- The truth is simple. If it’s not simple, it’s not the truth. Period.
This wasn’t an instant “aha” moment. It took me an entire year of trial and error to grasp these two fundamentals. I tried looking at them from different perspectives, applying them across various areas of my life, and tweaking my approach to make them more practical and sustainable. I even spent hours discussing my insights with my manifesting girlies.
Here are some of the most transformative changes I’ve made this year:
1. Trading with clarity:
I stopped overwhelming myself with news and forcing fundamental analysis that didn’t resonate with me. Instead, I focused on the numbers and percentages—the tangible facts. I began treating stocks like inventory in a trading business rather than emotional investments. I also stopped discussing trading with others, realizing how easily outside opinions could potentially sway me. I'm learning to trust my own discretion entirely.
2. Retraining my emotions:
I used to let people, events, and circumstances (especially family members) affect me too much. Now, when negativity arises, I remove myself from the situation. I’ve learned to respect my feelings without seeking validation or trying to prove myself. I also stopped convincing others to see things my way. Letting people do whatever they want. This change came from regularly reminding myself to behave like Xie Lian (yes, my role model is an anime character).
3. Cultivating gratitude:
Since manifesting starts with what I think about, I’ve poured energy into focusing on the good. This practice has been transformative. It’s made me more aware of how blessed I already am, and in turn, it has attracted even more love, care, and abundance into my life. Special thanks to my good friend Phoebian, who notices when I start behaving a bit odd and reminds me to flip through my gratitude journal (which doubles as a manifestation success journal), read old entries, and sit down to update it with new ones.
4. Taking life as a game to play:
I stopped basing my self-worth on achievements or numbers in a spreadsheet. Instead, I began experiencing life through a different lens by allowing myself to pursue “useless” hobbies and do things just because they make me happy. For example, I planted an onion with a friend (yes, an onion!) simply for the joy of it. I travelled to China, attended two concerts by the same band, experimented with different photoshoot concepts, and started working on a cute online business.
5. Allowing room for mistakes:
A major shift this year has been cutting down on self-condemnation. I’ve embraced the idea that every step I take is part of a larger journey. In the grand scheme of things, even missteps are leading me toward where I’m meant to go.
Here are some of the most transformative changes I’ve made this year:
1. Trading with clarity:
I stopped overwhelming myself with news and forcing fundamental analysis that didn’t resonate with me. Instead, I focused on the numbers and percentages—the tangible facts. I began treating stocks like inventory in a trading business rather than emotional investments. I also stopped discussing trading with others, realizing how easily outside opinions could potentially sway me. I'm learning to trust my own discretion entirely.
2. Retraining my emotions:
I used to let people, events, and circumstances (especially family members) affect me too much. Now, when negativity arises, I remove myself from the situation. I’ve learned to respect my feelings without seeking validation or trying to prove myself. I also stopped convincing others to see things my way. Letting people do whatever they want. This change came from regularly reminding myself to behave like Xie Lian (yes, my role model is an anime character).
3. Cultivating gratitude:
Since manifesting starts with what I think about, I’ve poured energy into focusing on the good. This practice has been transformative. It’s made me more aware of how blessed I already am, and in turn, it has attracted even more love, care, and abundance into my life. Special thanks to my good friend Phoebian, who notices when I start behaving a bit odd and reminds me to flip through my gratitude journal (which doubles as a manifestation success journal), read old entries, and sit down to update it with new ones.
4. Taking life as a game to play:
I stopped basing my self-worth on achievements or numbers in a spreadsheet. Instead, I began experiencing life through a different lens by allowing myself to pursue “useless” hobbies and do things just because they make me happy. For example, I planted an onion with a friend (yes, an onion!) simply for the joy of it. I travelled to China, attended two concerts by the same band, experimented with different photoshoot concepts, and started working on a cute online business.
5. Allowing room for mistakes:
A major shift this year has been cutting down on self-condemnation. I’ve embraced the idea that every step I take is part of a larger journey. In the grand scheme of things, even missteps are leading me toward where I’m meant to go.
2024 has been all about stripping away societal beliefs and redefining life on my own terms. I’ve learned to trust the process, stay rooted in simplicity, and focus on manifesting a life that feels true to me.
I’ll admit it—I’m a lazy person at heart. If there’s a shortcut, I’ll take it every time. But simplicity isn’t about cutting corners. For me, it’s about cutting through the noise and finding what truly works. If you look closely, all these lessons in this series tie together. This is the first time I have ever consciously watched the domino effect of how a person's awareness could seep into every aspect of life.
Like one of my favourite YouTubers said: Life is like the recycle symbol. Everything comes back full circle.
And that's a wrap for this series! I can't believe I actually did it before 23:59pm on 31st December! *claps for myself*
365 new opportunities are coming. May 2025 be the year all our dreams come true.
I’ll admit it—I’m a lazy person at heart. If there’s a shortcut, I’ll take it every time. But simplicity isn’t about cutting corners. For me, it’s about cutting through the noise and finding what truly works. If you look closely, all these lessons in this series tie together. This is the first time I have ever consciously watched the domino effect of how a person's awareness could seep into every aspect of life.
Like one of my favourite YouTubers said: Life is like the recycle symbol. Everything comes back full circle.
And that's a wrap for this series! I can't believe I actually did it before 23:59pm on 31st December! *claps for myself*
365 new opportunities are coming. May 2025 be the year all our dreams come true.
Tuesday, December 31, 2024
Contrary to popular belief, I no longer subscribe to the idea of hard work.
Before you label me as twisted, hear me out. I’m not trying to argue whether hard work guarantees success or laziness leads to failure. This isn’t about debating philosophies; it’s about reflecting on a habit - or perhaps a belief system - that many of us have unconsciously adopted.
For years, I was a proud member of the hustle culture. I took pride in saying, “I’m busy, I have no time, my schedule is packed, I’m so stressed, and I need to work harder.” These words felt validating as if they were proof of my ambition and worth.
But looking back, I see how toxic that mindset was—how much it weighed me down.
So, what changed? What made me question the glorification of hustle, stress and busyness?
The epiphany came unexpectedly while watching interviews of Jung YongHwa, a Korean singer I’ve admired since I was 17. During one of his interviews, he said something that hit me hard: among all the excuses in the world, the worst is, “I have no time.”
When I heard that line, I immediately thought "that's why I still love this guy so much after all these years".
Yes, his talent is undeniable. But it’s way more than that! He’s always bubbly, energetic, charismatic and optimistic. He just emits an aura and shines from the inside out! As the leader of CNBlue, a solo artist, a songwriter, a composer, and a multi-instrumentalist, he also finds time to pursue hobbies like golf, surfing, and boxing, all while hitting the gym nearly daily.
When asked how he manages to do it all, his response was disarmingly simple: “I rest when I want to rest, but when I have things to do, I get them done.”
I realised the negative labels I wore as badges of honour (my self-proclaimed stress, exhaustion, and busyness) were actually holding me back. My Apple calendar felt overwhelming before the week even began. My to-do lists looked like mountains I dreaded climbing.
People often talk about the “flow state,” but you don’t need a full moon, lavender incense, or 1,000 affirmations to find it. You just need to show up, focus on one thing at a time, and get it done.
Here’s what I’ve learned: you don’t need to label yourself or your tasks with unnecessary weight. Stop equating stress with success or busyness with worth. Most of the time, when you start, you’ll realize the task isn’t as intimidating as you thought. (Link to my tip on controlling oneself)
So who was I trying to impress by claiming, “I work 15 hours a day” or, “I’m a hustler”? No one but my own ego which constantly craved validation and attention.
Then again, if I am constantly feeling burnt out, I think the bigger, golden question is, “Is my system working?” Be it a work system, life system, or belief system, what could I do to improve its efficiency and effectiveness? That, I believe, is the right direction for the so-called “hard work” to go.
Another important thought to consider: If you keep focusing on hard work and identifying yourself as someone who is always stressed, busy, and tired, wouldn’t you end up manifesting more of that into your life? Personally, I’d rather choose an easier and lazier path by removing that label for good.
Today, I approach my responsibilities differently. I simply do what needs to be done (work/my useless hobbies/side projects), one thing at a time. To me, completing tasks isn’t about proving anything, so there’s no need to call it hard work, it’s just living.
P.S.: From a macro perspective of a collective society, where everyone believes they are working hard (and truly everyone is working hard in their own way), there’s really nothing special about the term “hard work” or “hustling” anyway.
*shrugs*
I heard something interesting in a YouTube video recently. This guy said, “A lot of us are news anchors for the wrong news station, all day.”
What he meant was that we constantly narrate our days, our stress, and our situations by replaying them in our heads or describing them to others, as if we’re reporting live. For example, you get home, start cooking dinner, and find yourself replaying the day in your mind. Then, as you eat, you’re still narrating it, or maybe you call a friend and recount the whole thing, blow by blow. Straight-up news anchor behaviour.
Now, I have to admit, even though I’ve worked on staying composed and letting fewer things get under my skin (as I mentioned back in Lesson #3 of 2024), when something really upsets me, I fall into this trap. Guilty as charged.
I’m lucky to have a few amazing girl gangs I text regularly, even though I’m a total homebody. But here’s the thing: I end up telling them everything about my life. One by one, respectively. And each time I retell the story, I narrate it like a news anchor, adding all the drama and emotions I felt in the moment. By the time I’ve shared it 38 times, hours, days, or even weeks have passed, yet I’m still clinging to that event like it just happened.
What I didn’t realise before is that this habit is a form of self-intoxication.
If you’ve heard Blackpink’s Rosé talk about the inspiration behind her latest album, she mentioned something similar. She had a toxic ex, and for the longest time, she couldn’t stop talking about that person, even though she was the one deeply hurt. At least she made millions out of her album by channelling her pain into music. What do I get? Bad vibes. Period.
I’ve started observing this pattern in others, too. I know people who still talk about their childhood traumas, their awful bosses, or how someone wronged them years ago. And honestly, it feels so normal in conversations. Sharing stories is what we do, right? What’s the alternative? Meeting up with friends and chanting, “Everything is perfect in my life,” and calling it a day?
But the more I thought about it, the more it made me pause. I decided to sit down and make a list of the things that truly triggered me to my core this year. Not the small stuff I could brush off with a quick "WTF" and a frown or a pathetic laugh, but the moments that stuck with me.
Thankfully, the list wasn’t as long as it used to be, but even so, looking at it made me cringe. It was like facing a mirror reflecting all the rotten and zombified emotional baggage I hadn’t let go of. Yuck.
The good news? I vow to catch myself faster now. I’m quitting this news anchor job.
Some might say, “You forgive but don’t forget.” But to me, it’s all a choice. If you forgive but don’t forget, isn’t that just lingering residue from refusing to bury the hatchet?
(Food for thought: Is your brain trying to protect you by automatically replaying the worst-case scenario you’re still clinging to? Let’s put that under the bridge, flush it down the toilet, or whatever works—maybe this post could help.)
Trust me, I get it. It’s not easy, especially with big, traumatising or infuriating events. I’ve personally gone through some that took years to overcome, and I’m still working on a few right now. But I believe it’s a practice. Sealing and expunging bad memories, burying them for good—that's a skill I’m determined to get better at over time.
Here’s to one step closer to becoming my ideal perfect self, who, by the way, happens to be an anime character: Xie Lian ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ (Read part 3 here to know the full story.)
Here’s to one step closer to becoming my ideal perfect self, who, by the way, happens to be an anime character: Xie Lian ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ (Read part 3 here to know the full story.)
PS: I just made a new background for my phone. That’s Xie Lian with a Chinese idiom, “海纳百川,” which means the sea can accommodate a hundred rivers, symbolizing an immense capacity for tolerance and inclusiveness. To me, it means that if I could simply accept what has happened, I could let it go, rather than trying to convince myself to be "the bigger person," pretending it didn’t hurt in the first place, or struggling to forgive or forget. Also, because pretending something doesn’t matter is tough, I’m too lazy to spend my energy on that! So, this is IMHO the easier way out. By striving to be as broad as the sea, I remain open to all possibilities - events, people, things, circumstances, and outcomes - without letting them sway me.
Not something that happened in once-upon-a-time.
Monday, December 30, 2024
(Nope, this isn’t about commodities—no Chanel bags or Starbucks Oatmeal Lattes are involved in this blog post!)
One day, I was chatting with a friend from China whom I met through social media. We found ourselves talking about a particular flower species that I’ve found breathtakingly beautiful. I shared how one of the main reasons I travelled to China was to see this flower in person and touch the petals with my own hands. As the conversation went on, I sent her some photos I took of the flowers during my trip.
She exclaimed, “Oh my gosh, this tree is everywhere here! The flowers are scattered all over the ground during spring. I never looked at them this way before. I love how you find so much happiness and beauty in the smallest things.”
Her words stayed with me. It wasn’t that I wanted to impress her, but maybe, just maybe, I wanted to live up to that perspective she admired in me. It reminded me of how some women praise their partners for mopping the floor impeccably, only for those partners to commit to spotless floors forever after. It felt a little like that—I willingly stepped into the role.
In a way, it also made me notice that oftentimes, we only appreciate the little things when we are travelling. Is the grass always greener on the other side? Or is it just us who don’t look at our own grass?
And so, a ritual began. It started with this one friend, but soon, the ripple effect touched everyone in my close circle, including me. It reshaped my routines, starting with something as simple as brewing coffee with intention (read the story here).
“Hey, look! The sunrise is so pretty today.”
“I know you love the sea, and it’s rare to see it in mainland China, so here’s a video I took just for you.”
“I saw this adorable cat on the street!”
“Sending you some photos of the beautiful heritage buildings in my city.”
Even on days when I didn’t leave the house, there was always something to share: a random song I stumbled upon, a thought-provoking article, clouds framed by my window, or the cute faces of my hamster. There's always something!
As time went on, we all noticed a few beautiful shifts in our lives:
1. Our lives weren’t as mundane as we thought.
By consciously capturing these moments, we became more mindful of how we spent our time and began to see our days through a lens of gratitude. In a way, this was a perfect blend of gratitude and mindfulness.
2. Our photography and aesthetics improved.
We trained our eyes to find beauty even in the most ordinary scenes. When it seemed like there was none, we simply shifted our perspective to discover it. This simple practice turned into a lifestyle change, one that we all agreed was worth the effort (correction: fun!)
To me, the act of someone sending me a happy, fun, or funny memory is a sweet and somewhat romantic gesture. Even if we don’t meet in person and are miles apart, it implicitly says, “I thought of you.” - that's sincerity and love in my eyes.
Everything can become a story. Everything already is a story. It’s up to us to elevate our lives, to lift ourselves out of monotony and embrace a more romantic, expansive way of living. We’re the ones who have the power to build better philosophies around joy, pleasure, and beauty. Because in the end, life is full of stories waiting to be told, we just have to start noticing them.
One day, I was chatting with a friend from China whom I met through social media. We found ourselves talking about a particular flower species that I’ve found breathtakingly beautiful. I shared how one of the main reasons I travelled to China was to see this flower in person and touch the petals with my own hands. As the conversation went on, I sent her some photos I took of the flowers during my trip.
She exclaimed, “Oh my gosh, this tree is everywhere here! The flowers are scattered all over the ground during spring. I never looked at them this way before. I love how you find so much happiness and beauty in the smallest things.”
Her words stayed with me. It wasn’t that I wanted to impress her, but maybe, just maybe, I wanted to live up to that perspective she admired in me. It reminded me of how some women praise their partners for mopping the floor impeccably, only for those partners to commit to spotless floors forever after. It felt a little like that—I willingly stepped into the role.
In a way, it also made me notice that oftentimes, we only appreciate the little things when we are travelling. Is the grass always greener on the other side? Or is it just us who don’t look at our own grass?
And so, a ritual began. It started with this one friend, but soon, the ripple effect touched everyone in my close circle, including me. It reshaped my routines, starting with something as simple as brewing coffee with intention (read the story here).
“Hey, look! The sunrise is so pretty today.”
“I know you love the sea, and it’s rare to see it in mainland China, so here’s a video I took just for you.”
“I saw this adorable cat on the street!”
“Sending you some photos of the beautiful heritage buildings in my city.”
Even on days when I didn’t leave the house, there was always something to share: a random song I stumbled upon, a thought-provoking article, clouds framed by my window, or the cute faces of my hamster. There's always something!
1. Our lives weren’t as mundane as we thought.
By consciously capturing these moments, we became more mindful of how we spent our time and began to see our days through a lens of gratitude. In a way, this was a perfect blend of gratitude and mindfulness.
2. Our photography and aesthetics improved.
We trained our eyes to find beauty even in the most ordinary scenes. When it seemed like there was none, we simply shifted our perspective to discover it. This simple practice turned into a lifestyle change, one that we all agreed was worth the effort (correction: fun!)
To me, the act of someone sending me a happy, fun, or funny memory is a sweet and somewhat romantic gesture. Even if we don’t meet in person and are miles apart, it implicitly says, “I thought of you.” - that's sincerity and love in my eyes.
Everything can become a story. Everything already is a story. It’s up to us to elevate our lives, to lift ourselves out of monotony and embrace a more romantic, expansive way of living. We’re the ones who have the power to build better philosophies around joy, pleasure, and beauty. Because in the end, life is full of stories waiting to be told, we just have to start noticing them.
For the longest time, I found myself chasing the elusive idea of self-love.
Online, I’d scroll through images of "IT girls" at 7 a.m., fresh from pilates, dressed in Lululemon, with perfectly manicured nails and a Stanley cup filled with (maybe) kale juice.
It all seemed so aspirational—or so I thought. I fell for it, believing this was what self-love looked like.
So, I tried it all (minus the kale juice in a Stanley). But something felt off. It was like wearing shoes a size too small that looked good but didn’t fit me.
This led me to dig deeper, spiralling into a black hole of endless searching for the so-called destination of self-love. I began to wonder: Is self-love really that hard to attain? Every time I thought I was close, the goalposts seemed to shift.
I believed I’d love myself once I saved $3,000, but as soon as I did, I raised the bar.
I thought losing weight would be the magic answer. Yet, even after shedding 13 kilos, I still didn’t like how my arms looked.
I thought losing weight would be the magic answer. Yet, even after shedding 13 kilos, I still didn’t like how my arms looked.
I thought mastering makeup would do the trick. Instead, I ended up frustrated by uneven double eyelids that refused to cooperate with eyeliner, and eyebrows that wouldn’t shape perfectly no matter how many tutorials I followed.
For years, if I had to rate my self-love on a scale of 1 to 10, I’d never go above a 4. Like so many of us, I fell into the trap of thinking perfection was the answer. If I could just hit a 10, maybe I’d finally be enough. But that pursuit? It’s exhausting. And where’s the final destination anyway? I felt like I needed a GPS to find it.
It made me question everything:
How far do we have to go to reach that perfect 10?
Is a 7 or 8 good enough?
Would a narcissist actually rate themselves a 10? And if they did, do they genuinely love themselves inside and out?
If someone rates themselves a 0-2, does it mean they’re struggling with depression?
But most importantly: Who’s even measuring?
We toss around the term "self-love" like it’s the propaganda of the century, but the world around us doesn’t exactly model unconditional love.
Parents glow with pride when you follow the path they’ve envisioned for you.
Bosses praise you when you meet or exceed their expectations.
And in relationships, love often seems tied to grand gestures—flowers, fancy dinners, and held doors.
It’s no wonder we struggle to love ourselves. We’re taught to see love as conditional—something earned, not something inherently deserved. This applies to how we treat ourselves and others. Come to think of it, that’s not love. That’s judgment. That’s manipulation. It’s an expression of fear, lack, and victimhood.
So, where did I finally find my answer? In a spiritual podcast. (Yes, cliché, but hear me out.) It said:
Self-love isn’t about what you do on the outside. It’s an internal feeling you cultivate by accepting yourself exactly as you are right now. It is not as some ideal version of yourself you imagine reaching someday, as if it were a destination.
This epiphany made me question how I love others, too:
Do I love them as they are, flaws and all? Or do I use "love" as a way to control, trying to shape them into something that makes me feel secure?
That realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I had been putting off self-love for some imaginary future version of myself. But that "someday" never comes. It’s just a mirage. The longer you wait, the more it robs you of truly living and deeply loving. No wonder it always felt like I was chasing my own tail. I thought I was moving forward, but I was just going in circles, stuck in the same spot.
It’s a hard truth to face, but it comes down to this: we can’t give to others what we don’t first give to ourselves. And we’ll never truly find love if we rely on external validation, whether from things, events, circumstances, or people.
Here’s the truth I’ve come to embrace: we’re all doing the best we can with what we have. And that is enough reason to love yourself.
Self-love isn’t a destination; it’s a process. Every step you take, every effort you make, is proof that you’re growing—and that deserves love, too.
For the first time in my life, as 2024 begins, I can honestly say: I’m happy with who I am. But I’m also excited to see how much better I can be moving forward.
And that? To me, it’s self-love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
Friday, December 27, 2024
"The key that separates a mediocre person from a pro is not about learning more, or spending more time on something, but control."
This was one of the first lessons my vocal teacher ever shared with me.
At the time, I understood the words well enough, but it took a full year of effort—digesting and applying this wisdom—to truly grasp its deeper meaning. Eventually, I realised it all comes down to four essential components: focus, execution, efficiency, and output.
Let me share some examples from my own life.
When I attend vocal classes, I always put my phone on airplane mode. Honestly, there aren’t many situations in life where I deliberately set my phone aside (I’m working on that, but that’s a story for another day). In class, it’s all about learning techniques and practising them repeatedly. One unexpected way I’ve tracked my progress is by sending random song covers to my friends. While I’ve never posted these publicly, they’ve become a form of self-review. Listening back, I can spot my tendencies—like forcing a flat note after hitting a high one or not injecting enough emotion into certain songs. I wouldn’t be able to gain these insights on my own if it wasn’t for those song covers that I did for fun with my friends though.
But this isn’t just about singing. This concept of control applies to other parts of my life too, including my income streams.
I’ve noticed an ironic contradiction: while I always say I love making money, I’ve realized I might just love having money. There’s no shame in that, of course, but I had to confront the excuses I’d been telling myself—things like, “I’m not ready yet” or “I need more time to prepare.” What I actually needed was to sit down, focus, tackle the issues head-on with efficient actions, and learn along the way. I’d been overcomplicating problems in my head, making them seem bigger than they were. It’s not that knowledge and strategy aren’t important. They are, but they pale in comparison to focused execution and consistent output. Looking back, if I’d faced my challenges immediately instead of overthinking them, I could have achieved so much more this year.
I’ve realised many of us fall into this trap of waiting for perfection. I’ve even discussed this with friends, and they’ve shared similar struggles.
For instance, I have a friend who’s a talented guitarist but was stuck in a job he didn’t care about, earning a mediocre salary. For years, he said he was waiting to feel “ready” to pursue music full-time. It wasn’t until he took a leap of faith, quit his job, and committed to his craft that things changed. Now, he’s not just a guitarist but a self-taught music producer earning a living from the music he creates! This transformation happened in just one year!
Another friend wanted to become a content creator. She loved making vlogs and plogs but spent weeks agonizing over every little detail—fonts, filters, vibes. I watched her hesitate before finally posting her first piece of content. Now, she’s on her fourth or fifth post, and her growth is incredible. Her content is beautiful and so soothing to watch. I feel like a proud mama after months of nagging her to “just post it already.”
If you’ve found yourself stuck in the “waiting” phase, it’s okay. There’s no need to dwell on what’s already happened. Instead, let’s move forward with more awareness and a commitment to better self-control.
As we head into a new year, consider creating systems or non-negotiable routines to hold yourself accountable. A habit tracker might help too. Whatever that works for you is the best way.
This time next year, I hope we can look back and say, “I’m so glad I executed well throughout the year,” rather than, “I’m still waiting”.
Let’s make it happen.
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